Madman
by K. East
Summary: Something is taking over Sirius's mind, something stronger than friendship and as unstoppable as death. And no matter how much he begs for help, he will always be a madman... Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

Madman

Chapter One

He was looking at the ceiling like an awed child who had never seen it before, witnessed its enchanted beauty of galaxies and moonlight and exploding stars; like a human privy to treasure upon treasure of visual wealth, he stared. It was his personal privilege and he looked blindly upon it, enthralled.

The moon was waxing and that meant just one thing. Sirius was infinitely glad for it - the sooner it came, the sooner he could forget everything and become the free, animal side of himself like he and his friends had been able to do, for the first time, that past summer.

"What on earth are you staring at?" Remus commented as he followed the boy's gaze. "Or perhaps that isn't the best word choice…"

"The Dog Star," Sirius replied somewhat mysteriously, and he was not referring to his namesake. James and Peter, his other friends who sat across from them at the table, looked at each other knowingly.

"Bored, _Padfoot_?" James cockily suggested, raising an eyebrow with the usage of the new nickname. Sirius harrumphed and finished his dinner quickly.

They all teased him about his desire for the full moon. James even called him sadistic because they all knew such an occasion was painful for a werewolf like Remus, but there was something incredibly alluring about being able to turn into an animal at will and use it to his friend's benefit, layered on top of the pride of accomplishing something at fifteen that most fully-grown people never did.

An Animagus. Only a rare few could claim that talent. And they - Sirius, James, and Peter - had all done it illegally to boot, without the intensive supervision the Ministry usually provided.

After dinner Sirius left his friends there as he had every day that week, choosing instead to walk to the dormitory alone. Perhaps this would become his new routine this school year. He lowered his head and counted:

"One, two, three…"

There were exactly six flights of stairs between where he was and where he needed to be, and each flight had eighteen steps.

"Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…"

He wondered privately why they hadn't asked a thing when he simply got up and left the Hall. In fact, none of them had protested at any dinner in these first seven days at Hogwarts. Perhaps they didn't remember the old routine where they sat around for ages, just talking or playing a game like chess, Gobstones, or Exploding Snap. Or perhaps now, in fifth year, it had been collectively decided that they were too grown-up for such idling. After all, they _were_ taking their Ordinary Wizarding Level exams this year.

"Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight…"

The downside to this was that there was not as much time for them to see each other.

The upside was that there was not as much time for them to see each other.

_Wouldn't they like to see me now?_ Sirius thought sarcastically just as he reached "sixty-three." But they wouldn't. They hadn't, apparently, liked to see him for quite some time now, though he couldn't put his finger on why he thought so.

"Sirius, wait up!"

Or perhaps they did; Sirius turned, not moving from his sixty-third step towards the dorm, and cracked a grin as Remus came bounding up after him. He was just paranoid, obviously.

"Why didn't you stop when I called you?" Remus asked breathlessly, pushing his brown hair from his eyes. He was a good-looking boy except for two jagged scars that cut down the side of his face. They collided at the corner of his mouth, so that one side was caught in a permanent frown.

"I did," Sirius said in slight puzzlement. He tried not to stare because those scars had always fascinated him, despite Remus's sensitivity about them.

Remus shook his head. "No, you didn't," he replied. "I said your name about five times."

"Oh." Sirius shrugged and turned away. "I guess I didn't hear you."

They began to ascend the stairs together, Remus talking and Sirius lowering his head again. He tried to concentrate on Remus's drivel as he counted silently: sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six…

"I can't believe James and Peter didn't want to come up, too…said they had things to do before going to the dorm. I suspect that means he's going to proposition Evans again."

Sirius looked up, irked, and for a moment forgot to count. Luckily he realized his mistake just as he took another step. Safe. "He's _what_?"

"Going to - er - proposition Evans," Remus answered haltingly. "Lily Evans? He's, erm, he's done it once already this year. Well, not so much _propositioned _her as, erm, asked her out -"

"Why didn't anyone tell me James fancies Lily?" Sirius demanded suddenly. A few students passing by turned their heads.

"Shh," Remus chided him, then lowered his voice. "He doesn't _fancy_ her, per se; he just… fancies a date with her."

Sirius scowled. "Someone could've told _me_. I'm in the group too, you know?"

"Of course you are," the other boy said with mild surprise. "We just didn't think to tell you. It's a fairly new development."

Sirius's scowl deepened and Remus sighed, grabbing his arm.

"Come on, mate, let's just get upstairs, finish that bloody monster of an essay McGonagall gave us…"

Even as he was being half-dragged up the staircase, Sirius watched the steps fly by, making sure each one was accounted for.

--

As it turned out, James hadn't done a very good job propositioning Lily because she stalked into the common room about fifteen minutes later, dropped her books at a table adjacent to where Sirius and Remus were working, and immediately flew to her friends, who gathered around her.

Sirius could only hear bits and pieces of what they were saying but after a few minutes Lily's voice crept up in volume and she seemed more and more agitated.

"Of _course_ I said no, Emma, are you ridiculous? He was so bloody smug about it - god, sometimes I just want to _smack Potter's bloody face off!_"

Sirius and Remus exchanged looks, knowing one of them would have to defuse the situation. The latter shrugged as if to excuse himself from bias, and Sirius, heaving a great sigh, got up and sauntered over to where the girls were gathered.

"Hey, Lily," he said in what he hoped was a casual tone. He stuck his hands in his pockets and tried not to look at her friends, who were staring openly at him.

"Hey, Sirius," she muttered. At least she had the decency to look ashamed of herself for the public denouncing. "Sorry - your bum of a best friend just gets on my nerves really badly right now."

"She's under a lot of stress," one girl added, looking at him like a hungry vulture. He fought down his puzzlement and surprise at this.

"Right," he said warily, before looking back at Lily. "He gets on everyone's nerves, sometimes, to be honest. Are you okay?"

Lily looked touched that he had asked, and his stomach did a backflip. "Yeah, I guess I am. I'm just - well, like Mary said, I'm under a bit of stress right now."

"Oh." Sirius, feeling the anxiety bubble up beneath his ribcage, quickly brushed his bangs from his eyes and murmured, "Well, alright, then. Don't sweat it."  
He got out of there like a bat out of hell.

"What'd you say?" Remus wanted to know as he cast a curious glance at the girls. Sirius slumped back into his seat. "That calmed her down pretty quick."

"Is she looking over here?" Sirius asked quickly, and quietly. He kept his eyes on the table, like he was extremely interested in his essay.

"Yeah, she and everyone else," the other boy said with surprise. "What'd you _say_?"

Sirius shrugged and didn't lift his gaze from the paper. His fingers drummed noiseless on his knee. "Nothing much of value."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I realize this isn't a very good time for me to start a new multi-chapter fic, but honestly I'm sick and tired of oneshots right now, and this got my (recently deceased) muse going again. It's going to be significantly shorter than _WAFILS_ or _ANBTT_. And the plot's going to be somewhat different. And Sirius-centric. Tell me what you think of it. :3


	2. Chapter 2

Madman

Chapter Two

It turned out the "bloody monster of an essay" wasn't even for credit in the class, but for a beginning-of-a-year warm-up. Sirius swore not a little when he heard that, because he'd stayed up most of the night perfecting it.

"Calm down, Sirius," James said cheerily - _he_ hadn't done his essay at all, something Sirius couldn't really fathom. Personally, he'd always had to do his work - there was a certain kind of shame in admitting he didn't have it.

But there wasn't a lot of time for him to fret about it because McGonagall had promptly issued a new assignment, one that made James laugh out loud and made _him_, even, crack a smile.

They were to reproduce, from memory, a diagram involved in the first steps of developing an Animagus. There were fifteen minutes until this would happen, and unlike the frantic others around them, James, Sirius, and Peter hadn't so much as cracked open a book.

"I wonder if we'll _ever_ forget, honestly," James gloated, and Sirius's smile grew wider.

"As if," interjected Peter. "I must've drawn that damn thing about a hundred times."

Remus scowled and looked up from his book (he, naturally, hadn't been as involved in the Animagi process, and felt his memory needed refreshing). "Would you two keep it down? Christ, Sirius is probably more sensible than both of you put together."

This was a joke, because James always claimed Sirius had no sense at all.

James was a fantastic creature. What he lacked in suavity he made up for in zest, and was always quite fun to be around. Despite his utter tactlessness, everyone seemed to love his magnetic personality.

Everyone, that is, except for Lily, who had purposely seated herself as far from him as possible. As Sirius watched, James glanced over, rumpled up his hair like he was afraid it would lie neatly for once, and cast her a winning smile as soon as he caught her eye.

She scowled and looked away.

"What is_ her_ problem?" James asked lightly, but even Sirius could see he was disappointed.

"Books away, please," McGonagall said loudly. "Yes, that means you, Miss Joyner. Everybody, books away."

"We've got it, McG," Sirius muttered, earning a laugh from James.

They were passed a piece of parchment, and they began.

--

Fifteen minutes had passed when McGonagall told them to set their papers down so she could collect them. As she passed Sirius and James's table, she looked at the former's work and commented, "You're not finished. Did you not memorize the diagram?"

"I did, ma'am," Sirius said quickly, trying to ignore the odd look James was giving him. On his parchment only about a third of the complex pattern had been completed. "I was trying to draw it to scale."

McGonagall looked skeptical. "Come see me after class, Mr. Black."

Sirius nodded, anxiety drumming up in his throat. Was he in trouble? The portion of the assignment he _had_ completed was perfect, even if it took numerous tries. Surely it wasn't his fault everyone else was careless and needed less time.

"What was that about?" James asked as soon as the professor left, his hazel eyes fixing like an eagle's gaze on his best friend. "Of _course_ you have it memorized."

"You heard me say so," Sirius muttered defensively. "I was drawing it to scale. I ran out of time. You ought to know by now I'm a bit of a perfectionist."

"A bit?" Peter laughed. "You freak out over the smallest detail, Si."

Sirius shot him a dirty look.

"Hey, I don't want to go to Charms," James announced brightly, grinning. Sirius was hugely grateful for the change of subject. He relaxed. "Who wants to go to the kitchens?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea, missing all the preliminary stuff?" Remus inquired warily. James scoffed.

"Come on, Remus, don't be a party pooper. Everyone knows the first week is just review anyway."

James excelled at getting what he wanted from people. Remus wanted least of all to be a "party pooper", and everyone knew it. He quickly agreed that yes, the first week was all review. Then the master of manipulation turned his attention to Sirius, who said:

"No."

James instantly deflated, which, in a twisted way, made Sirius happy. It was nice to know he still had that effect, that James needed him as much as he needed James.

"But - _why_?" James asked in a voice that bordered on whining. The corners of Sirius's mouth turned up in a smile.

"Because I almost failed Charms last year, and I'm not going to let it happen again."

James started to protest, but Sirius added, "Someone should stay here with me. Peter?"

The bell rang.

They didn't have a power struggle, exactly, but there was a definitely an unspoken competition. As Peter relented to stay, Sirius shot James a smirk reminiscent of his old self. Even though the numbers were even, he'd somehow won.

McGonagall pulled him aside. "Black?"

"Yes, ma'am?" he said, the momentary good feeling quickly fading away. Peter gathered his things and lingered by the door, apparently trying not to eavesdrop.

"I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Black," McGonagall said sternly, and she did look truly disappointed. "Your performance in my class this week has been far below expectations."

Sirius's heart skipped a beat. "But Professor - I've turned in all my assignments, I've kept up with the notes -"

"This is a more advanced level of magic than last year," she reminded. "Simply keeping up with assignments is not enough - your attitude has changed. Is there something going on you'd like to talk about? A situation at home, perhaps?"

Out of the corner of his eye Sirius saw Peter wince. A _situation at home_? That was laughable. His entire home life was one bloody _situation_.

He looked straight in McGonagall's eyes, drummed his fingers against his thigh, and said, "Nope."

The professor, as predicted, didn't take his arrogance well. "Then I suggest you sit up straight in my class," she said, "and stop _drumming_." He stopped immediately. "And you won't be distracted. Perhaps then you can memorize the required material?"

Sirius's fingers twitched at his side as he tried to ignore the urge to tap. "I do memorize the material, Professor." But he was defeated now, taken down a notch, and to his horror he could feel his eyes getting warm.

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Black."

Why, oh _why_ did she have to call him out on the drumming?

Sirius couldn't even look at the Peter as he brushed past him and out the door, because he knew his friend had heard everything.

It'd be bloody impossible for them _not_ to notice, of course, but he'd been comforted by the fact that they were too polite to point it out. It was driving him bloody mad, though, because they probably though he was neurotic and if they didn't ask he could never explain.

Except he didn't really know how to explain. Perhaps he _was_ neurotic.

He counted rapidly under his breath as he bounded down the staircase. "_Onetwothreefour -_" He lost count so he went to the top again. "_Onetwothreefour -_"

"Sirius!" someone called. It was Peter, a few yards away, looking terribly confused. "Why did you -"

Sirius didn't listen to him because the staircase he was on began to move, and _he_ was at the pivot point - which meant, as all Hogwarts students knew, that his destination was changing. He stared until the staircase stopped, pointing exactly in the opposite direction of the Charms classroom.

He was frozen.

"Come on, we'll have to go the other way," Peter said, gesturing for Sirius to follow.

He blinked. He had taken four steps down. If he were to take those four steps back up and then go to Charms - why, he'd have an eight-step surplus for the day!

And if he took eight extra stair-steps today, he'd have to take them everyday. It was only fair. Didn't Peter understand that?

"Go ahead," he said, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. He didn't turn around to look at Peter. "Just save me a seat - I'll be there in a sec."

"Why?" Peter asked, bewildered. Sirius imagined if he could see his friend now, he'd have the wide-eyed questioning look he often did. It wasn't as though the blond, admittedly chubbier boy was stupid; he was just clueless when it came to understanding people.

Which, at that moment, Sirius was quite thankful for. Sometimes James and Remus could see right through him, and though the latter was tactful about _everything_, the former would most definitely comment.

"I just remembered I have something to do," Sirius said finally, not moving (of course) from the step. He could almost feel Peter's confusion, but it was much better than skepticism.

"Alright," his friend finally said, and he turned and walked away. Just like that.

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief, but the all-too-familiar nervousness still washed around his stomach. He would soon be late for class unless this staircase got moving soon.

He closed his eyes and closed his fists, standing dumbly in the middle of the route between two classes. He was alone, as everyone else had gone another way. And yet his only comfort was feeling his fingernails digging into his palm.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please tell me what you think. This story's definitely a bit of a mystery along with the drama, because I can't see a clear way to come out and just tell everyone what's up with Sirius. You're going to have to figure it out for yourselves (and feel free to throw guesses at me... really, do it).

Angsty!Sirius if you review. :D


	3. Chapter 3

Madman

Chapter Three

Sirius was pitifully angry when he got back to the dormitory that afternoon. Flitwick had given him a good scolding in front of the entire class about his tardiness. And he had only kept his mouth shut and took it, because how could he have explained?

Peter, at least, hadn't mentioned it yet, which was perhaps why Sirius spared him the withering glare he shot at his friends when they tried to talk to him.

"What's your problem?" James wanted to know, looking somewhat put off when Sirius ignored him. "Oi, Padfoot – what are you doing?"

"Taking a shower," Sirius said bluntly as he knelt on the floor and dug through his trunk. He pulled out a set of everyday robes and James cocked his head.

"We still have to go to dinner, mate – in uniform," James replied. His tone was careful, as if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

This irritated Sirius, whose nerves were already raw. "I'm not going to dinner," he said through gritted teeth. Up until then he'd been planning on doing just that – considering he was starving – but now he felt irresistibly contrary.

The other three boys exchanged glances – glances he certainly couldn't miss, which served only to vex him further.

"What?" he demanded. "Can't a person not be hungry for once?"

"It's just that…" James trailed off and shook his head. "Mate, you okay? You're acting a bit nutty."

"I'm not acting '_nutty_'," Sirius snapped, standing up. James's eyes flashed dangerously at him as they always did when he knew he was being challenged. "I'm bloody _tired_ and in a bad mood and if I don't want to go to dinner then I bloody well _won't_, so why don't you just lay off?"

This seemed to cross the line for the other boys, and Remus, who had been reading in a futile attempt to ignore the two, lifted his head. "Hey, come on, Sirius. We know you had a bad day, but this'll cheer you up – full moon's tonight."

It must've taken Remus a lot of gumption to mention this dreaded full moon, knowing it would somehow please Sirius. But the effect was opposite than intended – Sirius's eyes narrowed and he shouted,

"And maybe I'm not going to the goddamn full moon, huh? Maybe I want you three to _leave me the fuck alone_!"

"Hey, why don't _you_ just lay off?" James said angrily. "You don't have to take it out on Remus – get out if you hate our company so much."

"Stop it," Peter said. Remus was frozen silent.

"No," James replied. He was shaking. "I'm sick and tired of having to tiptoe around _him_ because he's so fucking insane -"

Sirius snarled, "I'm not insane, you stupid bloody wanker," and in a flash James leapt on him and they went tumbling on the floor, wrestling and kicking and throwing punches without much concern for where those punches landed.

Peter jumped in and took hold of Sirius's collar, struggling to hold him because Sirius was, admittedly, much stronger than him. Remus growled angrily and snatched James's arm, jerking him back.

"Just shut up and calm down," Remus ordered, shoving James unceremoniously onto his bed. "Sirius, get out. You two are so ruddy immature it's driving _me_ mad."

Sirius stopped struggling and looked at Remus like a whipped dog. "Is that so," he said in a quiet voice. After a moment he pulled himself free from a perplexed Peter, readjusting his collar. He said, "Yeah, don't wait up for me," and limped out.

--

Once Sirius was outside and by himself, he let loose a stream of curse words. His left eye was swelling shut and an enormous yellow bruise had already risen up on his shin. "Bloody prick," he muttered, touching his eyes gingerly.

On top of it all, his stomach growled. And Sirius realized with a pang that he really _was_ missing dinner. He was completely destroying his routine… what was he thinking?

He managed to shake this off, however, because under no circumstances was he going back in _there_ to face his friends, no matter how badly he wanted to. They obviously resented his presence anyway.

He sucked in the fresh air. And then did it again. And again. It was because he wanted to savor the taste and smell of it, memorize its bitter sharpness against his tongue. And so he inhaled again.

Sirius traipsed down toward the lake, following the stone-paved path to its edge. He placed one step inside each round cobblestone, watching his feet carefully.

At least with this one, he thought wryly, he didn't have to count.

His fingers drummed aimlessly against his thigh and he found himself relaxing for once, looking out at the Black Lake as the water calmly lapped at the lake's edge. Then there was the sound of footsteps behind him, and he turned.

"Lily?" he said in utter puzzlement as he tried to contain the excitement in his voice. The girl with her dark red hair and her green eyes – a memorable color and shape that stood out to him – walked toward him. She was not ablaze with anger as she had been last time they spoke, but looked almost shy.

"Hi, Sirius," she said gently. She looked out at the lake, then back at him. "I'm sorry – did I interrupt you?"

"Not at all," he said, heart jumping to his throat. He turned toward her, casting a glance at his feet so they wouldn't leave their respective cobblestones. "What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be at dinner?"

"I could say the same thing," she said with a serious expression that made him laugh. "Erm – well, I guess I just didn't feel like going to the feast tonight."

Sirius nodded. "I didn't either."

"You have a black eye," she said quietly, moving closer to inspect it. "It looks pretty nasty… did Potter give you that?"

He shrugs and averts his eyes. "How'd you guess?"

"Everyone in the common room heard yelling from upstairs," she admitted, looking down, "and we figured the two of you were having a row again."

"Do we really fight that much?" Sirius asked with surprise. He'd known he and James were on rather… uncertain terms, but what Lily was telling him was that they were basically famous for their disputes. That irked him for some reason.

Lily shrugged and answered, "I wouldn't know. It's usually you and Remus bantering, but when you and Potter argue it always seems serious."

Sirius didn't answer. He picked up a rock and turned it over in his hand, contemplating her words. "They think I'm crazy," he said bitterly, and he tossed the rock at the water.

It didn't skip. He'd never been able to do that.

Lily retrieved her own rock and, much to his chagrin, skipped it four or five times on the water. She laughed. "You're not crazy, Sirius. You're probably the most normal of the four of you."

Sirius didn't say anything to that. He was beginning to think that normal was a lie, because he'd yet to meet such a person. Remus was a bloody werewolf; Peter was so non-confrontational that it was almost comical – he accepted everything lying down; and James… well, James was so damn mean and so damn vibrant, God, sometimes Sirius didn't know whether he hated or loved the bloke.

And to call him the normal one of the bunch? He might as well be Benedick and the Prince's jester. It wasn't him; they simply couldn't be one and the same. And yet here Lily was, affirming it.

"I guess I am," he said after he realized she was watching him for an answer. "I guess."

She offered him a smile which he tried to return. "You are," she said, "and you're very likeable. So I wouldn't worry about this, if I were you."

"What's 'this'?" he asked, mostly just to annoy her – and to distract her from the seriousness of the conversation.

"Your feud with your friends."

"Who?"

"Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin."

"What about them?"

She actually laughed, a carefree laugh, and this made Sirius truly smile. "You're too silly, Sirius."

He might've puffed up with pride had he not suddenly recalled James's dejected look in class that day; suddenly he was hit by a pang of guilt.

The smile faded from his face.

"I think I should go in," he said quickly, and she seemed dubious.

"Yeah, it's probably not great to skip dinner," she relented. "I'll go with you."

The boy began to panic. He wrung his hands, looking for a way out of the situation. "No, you shouldn't do that. I mean – argh – you shouldn't, erm…"

"I get it," Lily said quickly, and he wondered if she really did. "You and James – he'd be angry if we walked in together right after you two had a row, right?"

Sirius nodded numbly. She really _didn't_ understand, but what she'd suggested was true enough. This irked him to no end – every time he was feeling like his old self again, something happened to end that. And more often than not, it was one of his own thoughts.

He briefly considered what would happen if he killed himself, and then – horrified that such a morbid idea would manifest itself during such an otherwise innocent mindset – he forced himself to think of Quidditch. His fingers curled achingly against his thigh. He struggled not to drum.

"Sorry, Lily," he finally managed to say. She was so unaware of the fleeting image of death that had just passed through his mind. "I – really should go."

"I understand," she said, looking down. "Go."

He didn't hesitate to obey.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I must say, there will be a lot of coarse language used in this story. If it becomes a problem, I will raise the rating to M. For now, though, I'll leave it be.

Please review - I am putting a lot of thought into this piece, and I would love to get feedback. Thank you to everyone who's done so thus far.


	4. Chapter 4

Madman

Chapter Four

"It's two in the bloody morning," somebody hissed when Sirius came into the dormitory. Light from his wand flooded across the room, but he was too wholly exhausted to care. He flicked it off and sightlessly climbed into his own bed, not bothered to change.

The person who had spoken was James, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed with the curtains pushed back. He watched Sirius in the darkness with a poisonous look on his face, and for a moment they simply stared at each other.

Then, softly, Sirius said, "What's your point?"

There was a sharp intake of breath from where James sat across the room. "Where've you _been_?" the boy demanded in a piercing whisper.

Sirius shrugged and shifted his weight on the mattress. And again. He couldn't seem to get comfortable. "Nowhere," he said noncommittally, and he decided to lie down instead. He pulled the covers up to his chin and tried not to look at James.

"Nowhere?" James repeated, evidently not ready to back down. "You missed dinner and you missed the _moon_ – Remus is in the hospital wing right now, but you didn't care to notice, did you?"

Truth be told, Sirius _hadn't_ noticed – Remus's bed was mournfully empty, the crimson curtains hanging half-open. He felt a rush of guilt, and in a valiant attempt to ignore it he said, "And what are _you_ doing? Waiting up for me?"

"Exactly," his friend said loudly – from Peter's bed, an interruption in the snores drew their attention; and then it continued. James lowered his voice and harshly whispered, "And up until now I couldn't decide whether to ask if you were okay or to kick your ass for not showing up, and Sirius, I'm leaning toward the latter."

"Sorry if I don't feel like running all over the shop with the same bastard who gave me a black eye earlier," Sirius snapped, and in a momentary twist of irony James shifted in his spot and shadows played differently across his face so Sirius could see – _he_ had a black eye, too.

With a small noise of regret – made far, far back in his throat, and hopefully one James hadn't heard – Sirius also observed a hand-shaped bruise under James's chin.

"James," he said suddenly, "did I do that?"

"What? Oh," his friend said in surprise, and touched his neck gingerly. All talk of the full moon was forgotten in light of their earlier altercation. "Yeah, that was you."

Sirius quickly bit out, "Sorry, mate…!" He was guilty. Here he was, whining and moping and waiting until nighttime to return to the castle, and James had been going about his day looking like someone had beaten him. And he wasn't embarrassed about it, either.

Sirius was quite sickened with himself. His own neck felt instantly cheated of a bruise and his heart of the martyrdom.

"It's fine," James said after some hesitation, and his tone was not very convincing. The boy crawled under his covers and said, "We argue over stupid shit anyway."

"I agree," Sirius said, swallowing. "Agree. And -" he laid himself exactly in the center of his four-poster "- I'm going to sleep now." _Sleep_, he added silently, mouthing it to feel and taste the word in his mouth. This James did not see, or he surely would've though his friend crazy.

But instead James just replied, "Yeah, and try not to talk so damn much this time."

Sirius's breath caught in his chest. "What?"

"Nothing," said the voice from across the room. He was only a few yards away, but James sounded distant and tired. "Nothing at all."

"No, _what_?" Sirius demanded. He fumbled in the darkness like a blind child, to find the right words to say. "I should try not to do _what_?"

"Talk incessantly," James said stiffly, and then he turned over and said no more.

For the remainder of the hour Sirius did not sleep. He stared wordlessly into the darkness of the dormitory, acutely aware of his heart beating, his lungs breathing, and his fingers tapping rhythmically against the sheets. He listened to the sound of his friends' breathing and then drifted off into a restless sleep.

--

Sirius woke with a start and realized immediately that he had overslept. Light streamed into the room – he had forgotten to draw the curtains around his bed – and he could hear voices from downstairs.

Peter was the only other person in the room, and he was pulling on a cloak with his back to Sirius. As if on cue, the blond boy turned around and his face arranged itself in surprise.

"Oh," he said briskly. There were pale blue circles under his eyes, which Sirius observed curiously. "You're up?"

"Yeah," Sirius said with slight irritation, "and I suppose I've missed breakfast." He pushed back his covers and sat on the edge of his bed.

Peter shrugged. "You can always go to the kitchens. It's Saturday, remember?"

"Right," he replied distractedly, pulling on fresh clothes. He could feel Peter watching him as he turned each of his socks down to an equal length, adjusting each the slightest bit at a time until he was satisfied with their symmetry. "I can't believe I slept so long…"

"You're just about the only one," Peter said under his breath. Sirius glanced up and was surprised to see hostility in his friend's eyes.

Anxiety rose up like bile in his throat and Sirius quickly stood, averting his gaze like an intimidated puppy. He padded across the room and retreated into their shared bathroom, closing the door before leaning against it, mouth gaping like a goldfish as he sucked in breath.

Anxiety – panic, even – plagued him and today was no better than the other days. He could see this would be particularly bad, as black centipedes crawled around the edges of his sight. He swayed, grabbing the door handle to support himself. His fingers drummed helplessly against it and he memorized the already-familiar rhythm.

_Stop_, his mind said, but his mouth was already forming the word, feeling it scrape against the back of his throat and loll of his tongue, slip between his front teeth and smack against his bottom lip. _Stop_.

Oh, couldn't they see how much it tortured him, this affliction? He must've been crazy, one hundred-percent crazy. But did crazy people _know_ there was something wrong with them? Did they feel so intensely aware of everything their body did, the way their clothes lay on them, the way the air brushed on cheek and not another? Did they _try_ to stop the horrific images or voices or ideas that came to mind?

Sirius's knees buckled, and he slid down against the door, curling up childishly. _He_ wouldn't know the answers to any of those questions. He'd never been crazy before this.

"Sirius?" A voice tentatively called. He flinched at the sound of it – most went into his right ear, and his left ear instantly begged for compensation. He wondered vaguely if he'd be able to hear the next thing said to him only with his left ear, or if he would have to go through life with un-balanced ears from now on.

The thought maddened him to no end.

"Sirius?" said a second voice, and it was Remus's. With a start he realized he'd been in here longer than he'd thought, a few minutes more than a few minutes. "Are you okay?"

It was bitterly ironic to Sirius that his friend would inquire as to _his_ well-being, considering the circumstances of the night before. Remus must've just returned from the hospital. He could hear Peter and the werewolf talking in hushed tones from behind the door.

"I'm fine," he croaked, and his voice came out much quieter than he'd expected, so he had to strain to hear himself. His left ear protested at the unfairness of it all. Oh, he'd never learn, would he? He cupped a hand over the right one to muffle sound for the time being.

There was a long pause and Remus finally said, "Okay." He sounded somewhat unconvinced. "James will be coming up from breakfast soon, and we're going to head outside for a bit of fresh air. Do you want us to wait for you?"

He swallowed and drummed his fingers faster against his knee. There had once been a time when they'd simply wait for him, no affirmation necessary. That time had obviously passed. "I… think I'm going to stay here," he said quickly. "You go on without me."

He heard more indeterminable whispers and then Remus said, "Got it. Come out later if you're feeling better."

Sirius waited for their footsteps to fade away before he struggled to his feet and exited the bathroom. He wasn't sure what was meant by "if you're feeling better", since he hadn't indicated he wasn't well. Probably a conclusion Peter had reached after he'd stayed quiet for ten minutes in the loo.

He finished dressing, hating the process because it was slow and meticulous, and required a lot of effort to get everything symmetrical – but it helped him stall, making sure his friends had emptied out of the common room before he went down.

Sirius wasn't entirely sure why he was avoiding them, even.

He padded into the common room, tying his crimson and gold scarf around his neck in the girlier French twist (because, frankly, he preferred its simple, bow-like descent to the lopsidedness of the usual fashion). But to his surprise, the place wasn't empty – Lily was there, digging through her rucksack with a furrowed brow.

He dropped his hands from his scarf and glided forward like he was in a dream. "Hey, Lily," he said hoarsely.

She looked up and her expression relaxed instantly. "Oh, Sirius; it's just you. Potter isn't around, is he?"

"I guess he just went outside," Sirius replied, his voice taking on a slight edge. She seemed to notice this, a kind of sorrow settling in her green, green eyes – but for all the wrong reasons. He wondered vaguely how she could understand him so well and yet overlook this one, immense aspect of their friendship…

"Have you two _still_ not made up?" she sighed, closing her book bag. "I swear, Potter gets more and more ridiculous every day. No offense, of course – but I'm sure you know what he's doing."

Sirius's throat tightened. "I have a vague idea," he said stiffly.

Sirius and James _had_ made up, but if that would explain his tension…

"Don't worry – I've been saying no quite regularly," Lily said gently, and for a moment he was stunned into thinking she _did_ know and he had simply underestimated her tact. But then she added, "I know you don't want to give him up to anyone just yet…"

There she went, knowing everything she possibly could know (he truly _did_ want to keep James forever, but…) and still applying it to the wrong context. It would've made Sirius smile if the situation wasn't so bloody depressing for him.

"How's that eye?" she asks thoughtfully, running her eyes over his face. Sirius touched it fleetingly the way James had felt his neck and jaw the night before, subconsciously searching for the bruise with his fingertips.

"It's not much better," he said honestly as he felt how swollen it was. Indeed, he couldn't see very well out of it at all, and he probably looked like shit. "It'll go down eventually, though."

Lily tugged her wand from her back pocket. "Here," she said. "Hold still."

He stiffened visibly and she ran the wand gently around his eye, tracing his tender skin in a tickling fashion. He instantly felt a warmth spread through that side of his face.

"Now it'll be gone within a few hours," Lily told him, her eyes twinkling up at him. He gave her a rare smile and was surprised to see gladness on her face for it. "You and Potter won't have matching shiners anymore."

He ran his fingertips under his chin and felt the delicate, soft skin. "Leave his on, then," he tried to joke, and it actually came out sounding somewhat light-hearted.

Lily's smile widened and she put her wand away. She patted him on the shoulder without an ounce of the patronizing manner he imagined Remus or someone might've used in such a situation. "Trust me, the last thing he needs is for someone to fix his face. He's got enough girls trialing after him now to send his ego through the roof."

One of Sirius's eyebrows went up, and Lily added slyly,

"But then again, _you've_ got quite a few ladies at _your_ feet, Sirius."

He blinked and opened his mouth hesitantly. "I – do?" he said, faltered. Did he? He could recall getting odd looks from girls this year, but it never had occurred to him that they might have _liked_ him.

"Oh, yes," the red-haired girl said matter-of-factly, winking. "It seems you became quite the attractive item over the summer. I'd look out, if I were you. I already know a couple girls who are tossing around the idea of love potion."

Sirius wasn't certain he believed _that_ but he was focused on one thing and one thing only: Lily thought he was attractive. She said so!

He stood there, unable to hear the rest of what she was saying; he was only aware of the growing danger of the situation. It was James. James was the problem. As long as he wanted to hold onto his best friend (and he did, very much so) then this _hope_ was only a predator. It would destroy him in the end.


	5. Chapter 5

Madman

Chapter Five

Lunch was eerie.

True to Lily's promise, Sirius's black eye had faded by then, though none of his friends said a thing. The other boys had apparently spent all morning on the pitch or elsewhere out of sight, because this was the first time he'd seen them all day; frankly, he didn't blame them for evading him.

"Sirius, why don't you try some of these sausages?" Remus suggested, pushing a plate of sausages at him. "They're good."

Sirius's stomach turned at the sight of food. It was true that he'd skipped two meals now, something he knew wasn't exactly healthy, but he was sickened by the idea of eating. All he could think about was earlier that morning and how his thoughts had been so dangerously close to betraying James.

That was unacceptable, even if he and James weren't on the best of terms at the time. He could concentrate on nothing else. So he shook his head and opted instead to sip some water nervously.

His three friends exchanged looks, which irked him. They'd been doing that quite often, like a private conversation he wasn't let in on. If they hated him – which seemed so likely at times – why didn't they just come out and say it?  
"How about some potatoes?" Peter offered timidly. "There's a Quidditch game today, you know, so you'll need something in your stomach to – erm, to help you cheer?"

"Thanks, but I'm really not hungry," Sirius said flatly, slightly irritated at their persistence. James released a loud, blatant sigh and looked darkly away, something which captured his attention. He looked between James and the oddly nervous-looking Remus and Peter. "What's going on? Did you three not get enough sleep or something?"

Peter had evidently not mentioned the entire story that morning when he said no one had gotten sleep, because James quickly turned and said, "Yeah, and thanks to you."

Sirius blinked. He could feel warmth rising cruelly up in his cheeks and he did not know why. "What do you mean?" he asked hesitantly.

"You _talk in your sleep_," James stressed, earning him concerned looks from Peter. Remus was evidently trying to stay out of it, shoving his nose into a school book that had no pertinence to any of their current lessons. "Loudly, I might add."

Sirius's stomach lurched, and he looked between his friends. None of them were smiling, no one came out and said, _April Fool!_

"What… do I say?" he stammered, voice quiet and weak.

James laughed cruelly. "Oh, the usual: _Regulus, no!_" he squeaked. Sirius blanched. "_Don't listen to them! Don't!_ And -"

"James," Remus warned, "Stop it."

"He asked," James said, and Sirius saw his friend's eyes had gone dark with malice. It was something he was surprisingly used to seeing, because James, out of everyone, knew Sirius the best. And therefore he knew all the right things to say, all the right buttons to push, to punish him.

There was a long pause before Remus finally said, "Can I talk to you for a bit, Si?"

Sirius nodded numbly and got to his feet, trying to force down any memories that had been stirred up. He swallowed thickly, casting a glance at a worried Peter – who averted his eyes – and James, who glared defiantly back at him.

"You know I don't want to get in the middle of your spat with James," Remus said as soon as they were out of earshot. "But Sirius, I think you should know – he's worried about you."

Sirius tried to comprehend, he really did. But he was too focused on the sudden coldness of his skin. Remus must've noticed this, because he added,

"We all are, Sirius."

It was a whirlwind revelation. It uprooted him. Had they noticed, finally? Were they going to repudiate him, or would they help him? Sirius could cry at the thought of being abandoned by his friends, but the idea of escaping _this_ hell-hole seemed impossible.

Who would want to be friends with a psychopath, anyway? He hated _himself_, even.

Remus apparently took his silence badly. Sirius wondered who appoint him the job of administering the bad news…but of course it was James. James was the ringleader, life with the "Marauders" circled around James…

"Sirius…" the other boy said softly. It was such a pained tone that Sirius looked up, just briefly.

"What, Remus?" he said, voice hardening. But it was all a pretense. His fingers twitched at his side.

"You were saying -" Remus cleared his throat, looking pained, "-when you were sleeping, you were saying '_I don't have an – eating disorder. I don't…_'"

Sirius jerked. "_What_?" he demanded. A passing group of Hufflepuff girls looked over, startled.

"You heard me the first time, didn't you?" Remus said, distressed. He scrunched up his eyes and tugged angrily on a lock of his brown hair. "Christ, Sirius, no one wanted to talk to you like this, don't you understand? But you aren't getting any better -"

"I _don't_ have an eating disorder," Sirius said in disbelief. Blood rushed to his head – he was no longer cold, but the familiar centipedes were at the corners of his vision again. "I -"

"We know you do, Sirius!" Remus blurted. His voice became more high-pitched, more desperate, and with a thump of his heart Sirius realized his other two friends were watching from where they sat about ten yards away. "You're acting funny, you don't eat, you spend forever in the bathroom -"

Sirius gaped, but his friend went on. "Damnit, Sirius," Remus said in a tired whisper, "it may seem okay to you, but it's _not_. And if things at your house are worse, you can -"

"You think I'm not eating because of my _home life_?" Sirius hissed, though his thoughts were tumultuous – he could hardly gather them into words. "You think – you think that has something to do with my acting weird? That I'm starving myself?"

"I don't know what else it could be," Remus said quite miserably.

Sirius's head was spinning, but somehow words still poured from his throat. "Or maybe it's that there's nothing wrong with me," he said. "If the way my parents treat me had _any_ effect on my eating, don't you think I would've keeled over, say, five years ago? I can't believe you all know that little about me."

In the corner of his eye he saw James standing up to join them. That was the last thing Sirius wanted – he was confused and mortified that his best friends would be so completely off the mark. He hesitantly backed away, then turned toward the staircase.

"I'm going," he said over his shoulder, matching the disbelief in Remus's brown eyes.

--

Sirius found himself pacing in the boys' bathroom on the second floor, throwing glances at the mirror every now and then.

He _looked_ the same as he had all his life: the same long, dark hair; the same grey eyes; the same arched brows and straight nose. Uncommonly handsome, his mother used to say when he was a child. He was the _same_.

And yet he didn't recognize himself at all – the scared look in those eyes, the unnatural turn of his frown; the stranger in the mirror blinked back at him worriedly.

He couldn't see how his friends had looked at this unfamiliar face and decided it had a problem, that it needed an intervention. Maybe stranger Sirius was taking over old Sirius. He didn't know. He continued pacing.

Suddenly Sirius remembered the offerings of food, the worried voices behind the bathroom door, and a rush of anger swept through him. "Do you even think before you come to conclusions?" he demanded angrily of the air. "I'm fine! I'm _fine!_ I'm -"

He was about to say "fine", but his tongue wrapped clumsily around the word like a piece of sushi. He didn't want to say it, but he _needed_ to. Why?

He struggled. And he said, "…fine."

The battle, like all the other attempts, was lost.

Suddenly Sirius whirled and rammed his fist into the mirror, cracking it. His knuckles took the brunt of the damage – blood trickled down his fingertips – but the _crunch_ it made was oddly satisfying.

Until he saw, of course, his scarlet blood smeared across the glass, an unbearable reminder. He looked at his hand and with bitter interest noted how much it was bleeding. Little grain of broken glass sprinkled the wound.

Sirius started to cry. It hurt, his hand hurt, he'd wanted to punch the mirror but now his other hand was begging to be made into a fist, demanding to feel the same pain he was feeling now.

First uneven ears, then uneven fists.

He punched the mirror again, this time with his left hand, and felt instantly better. The tears stopped and he went to wipe them away, but only succeeded in getting blood on his face.

Sirius looked at his broken reflection and felt overwhelmed. He swayed. Blood trickled slowly over his palms. Tentatively he flexed his hands to see whether they were still functioning, whether he still had control over _those_, at least. He found he did.

It occurred to him then how filthy the school really was – he could see it in his mind's eye, a multitude of bacteria gone unseen, swarming over surfaces, sinking into his body. A chill ran up Sirius's spine and he quickly went to turn on the faucet.

The water swirling in the sink was pink. The sight made him light-headed, dizzy, like spinning in circles and then suddenly stopping; he tripped over himself, he fell against the sink and clung desperately to its sticky porcelain edge.

"I'm fine," he tried to say, but all that came to mind was the image of being infested by any number of terrible diseases – tiny invaders that would consume his body from the inside out and render him a lifeless shell. "I'm fine, I'm fine -"

Sirius tried to force these thoughts down and replace them with _good_ thoughts, like – like going to the village with his friends or – playing chess, yes. He filled his mind with images of moving rooks and bishops, a few sacrificed pawns, a tipped king.

Except he could hardly focus on a gambit, on a mere game, when he was being so terribly taken over.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is dedicated to **bookwormofmassiveproportions**, who is pretty much the best reader ever. Thanks darling. :D And it is also dedicated to the chocolate eclair I ate before typing it. Yum!

Please review. :D


	6. Chapter 6

Madman

Chapter Six

He was sure he could see the skepticism on his friends' faces when he came back to the dormitory, cleaned up and composed, and insisted he was fine. The next few days were a chilling blur – he was just trying to get through the week – and he couldn't focus; he didn't even know whether they were still clinging to their inane theory or if they believed him now. Or if they thought something even worse was going on – because _this_ must've been infinitely worse.

Sirius found it maddeningly ironic that, of all things, they would call him out on having – well, what they thought he had. He couldn't believe it, couldn't understand it. _Those_ were about control – but he had such a lack of control, control over his own thoughts and actions, that some days he wanted to rip his brains out.

He was in the common room one day before breakfast, talking to Lily. She was an early riser, and lately he hadn't slept at all; it was so much easier talking to her than it was talking to his friends. She didn't question him, and if she noticed his odd behavior, she didn't say so.

They were engaged in a conversation about the upcoming OWL exams when James descended the stairs, looking rumpled and sleepy. Sirius's heart plummeted.

"Sorry, Lily," he said quickly. "I've got to go."

Lily cast a long look at James, who was now approaching them, and murmured, "Right – avoiding Potter. I know the feeling."

"Hi, Evans," James said in an almost hopeful tone when Lily stood. She cleared her throat and brushed past him. Sirius was left standing awkwardly by an armchair.

"Morning, James," he said carefully, rubbing a thumb over the uneven scars on his knuckles. It had become a fascinating nervous habit, memorizing those marks. He hadn't told anyone how the mirror in the second-floor bathroom was broken. No one had asked anyway.

But he'd barely talked to his friends since then, and James looked mildly surprised. Then his face relaxed.

"Morning, Padfoot," the boy said easily, as if they'd never been avoiding each other. Sirius reeled with delight – James didn't hate him! He called him by his nickname. He didn't think Sirius was nuts!

But this was all quickly quelled when James ran a hand over his hair, mussing it up, and said, "Can we talk, mate?"

Sirius's fingers moved involuntarily at his side, tapping the familiar rhythm. He tried to stop, but they refused. "I…" He cast a glance around the room.

James took this for consent because he said quickly, "I think you should check into the hospital, mate."

Sirius's blood boiled. "There's nothing wrong with me," he snapped, "and I'm not going to see Pomfrey just because _you -_"

"No," his friend interrupted. "For _that_." He nodded at Sirius's hands.

"…oh," he said, trying to comprehend. For the scars. The glass cuts. He quickly conjured to mind an affronted Madame Pomfrey, telling him he had some life-threatening disease and that he should've come in earlier. The idea frightened him.

But more importantly, James was worried. James cared. And he was basically saying he didn't believe Sirius had a – disorder, that these trivial scars were the most of his problems.

"They'll… be fine," Sirius said after a long while. "Fine. They'll be fine."

James's expression didn't change. He looked at Sirius soberly. "What if it's infected? The glass couldn't have been clean."

Sirius jolted – the earth seemed to shake beneath his feet, though everything else was unaffected. James knew. How did he know?

"You're my best mate, Si," the boy said in a strange, strained tone. "I know you."

Of course he did, Sirius thought bitterly. They were the dynamic duo, the double-teaming dastards, _James and Sirius_. Unofficial leaders of the Marauders. How this had come to be, he would never know.

But he wanted more than anything to remain there, to reclaim his old life and his old self, to be the comrade James needed him to be.

He faltered, and he said tentatively, "I'll take care of it myself. I will. It'll be fine," _fine, fine, fine._

Sirius thought back and remembered James's malicious, biting responses, the dark looks, the cold shoulder. He'd been worried; he'd asked Remus to talk for him. Remus, who was always neutral if he could help it, was much better with diplomacy than demanding, passionate James was.

Sirius was overwhelmed with appreciation then.

"If you're sure," James said. And he did a brilliant thing – he offered Sirius a smile, reminiscent of old times. Sirius immediately brightened, and a good feeling stirred in his heart – this, then, was a truce.

"Thanks, mate," Sirius said finally, mustering up a smile in return. They both relaxed – the ice had been broken.

A kind of hope dawdled in Sirius's soul that had not been there before – pulsing, warm, tickling his ribcage and sending electricity up his spine and pleasure pooling in his feet. It was small and pale in comparison to what he'd had before, but some semblance of control was coming back.

As long as he had James, he was not – could not – be lost, even in the tiresome, compulsory routine.

--

Something was bothering Sirius despite all the progress he'd made that day. It lay dormant at the back of his mind, biding its time, such a slow and cruel creature he didn't even see it coming like he'd thought he should.

He was leaving Herbology with James when it happened. Since their reconciliation three hours earlier it was as if they were eager to replace all the time they'd lost; the dynamic duo was alive again.

They played it up all morning like they had in years past – James setting Sirius up for the best prank or joke, Sirius gracefully saying or doing the exact right thing to make the people around them laugh. Even Remus and Peter seemed happy and relieved. It was _perfect_.

That is, for a while it was.

They were leaving Greenhouse 2 ahead of everyone else, laughing and talking. James, to Sirius's mild surprise, pointed out a group of Hufflepuff girls looking in their direction; both boys puffed out their chests and did their best to show off.

It should've been the best day Sirius had had in a long time.

But that doubt, the one that had waited so patiently for the right moment to manifest itself, was beginning to chew at the edge of his mind.

The possibility that his cuts had been infected was very real to Sirius. Yes, they'd healed, but the scars remained bright pink and tender to the touch. He didn't know what that meant, could only think about the number of diseases the school must host – a thousand people living under one roof? – and the thought of all those diseases being practically invited into his body – a wide open door.

He'd washed up every time he got the chance, he'd tried to keep dirt off his clothes and hands during the class, but by that time he was getting more and more fearful.

Sirius could have anything and not even know it. He could have… _HIV_ and the only person qualified to find out would be Madame Pomfrey. But at the same time, he couldn't very well explain he was afraid of certain diseases without being pinned down as a drug user or a philanderer. The idea of going for help was preposterous…

…and yet, all that blood must've counter for something, right?

"What's wrong, Si?" James asked lightly as they entered the castle. They headed for the stairs – their next class was two floors up. "You went quiet all of a sudden."

To anyone else his words may've seemed casual, but there was a dangerous undertone that Sirius couldn't miss. It was a warning – not to screw things up again, not right after they'd finally resolved the conflict.

"There's nothing wrong," Sirius said quickly, and his fingers drummed against the stair rail before they made their ascent. He lowered his gaze out of habit and began to count: _one, two, three, four, five, six_…

"You sure? You can tell me, you know," James added, flipping a glance over his shoulder. Sirius paid no attention – it was a busy staircase, their classmates swarming upwards. His friend wouldn't push the issue here, right? He continued counting.

_Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…_

"Sirius, come on." James took his arm and stopped him while other students parted around them like a river parts around a rock. "You're not even listening to me."

_Oh, God_, Sirius thought desperately, James really _was_ going to make a scene. Here, in the middle of everything. He could see the growing frustration on his friend's face with every second of silence that ticked by, but out of some sick pride, Sirius couldn't answer honestly.

"Stop being so tactless," he finally said, trying to remain lighthearted. "C'mon, you know nothing's wrong. Let's get upstairs before we're late for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

He pushed upwards against James's grip and James's gaze, _thirteen, fourteen, fifteen_ –

"Sirius!" James reached up and snagged his elbow, pulling him stumbling down a few steps, so they were on the same level. Sirius was paralyzed and couldn't even see James's darkened expression. "Oi! I'm tired of your evasion – just answer me."

Sirius was blind with fear, it seemed – everything swam pink before his eyes like the pink, tainted water in the sink, the tainted blood in his veins. He stroked the scars over his knuckles questioningly and looked straight through James.

"Answer me, Sirius!"

This couldn't be happening. James's tone reeked of anger, but it was begging, desperately begging, searching for something. For what? The old Sirius? He was nowhere to be found now.

"Shut up," Sirius said quietly. His fingers moved involuntarily at his side. His voice shook. "I don't know what is so _wrong_ with me that you have to go and interrupt -"

"I just want you to talk to me, casual conversation like we've always done," James defended. People paused around them, murmuring, speculating on what _this_ one was about. "As soon as I ask you about yourself you freeze up and you never used to do that -"

"Shut _up_!" Sirius yelled suddenly, startling everyone around him. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the sudden _rage_ he felt. "Shut up, _shut up!_ You've gone and ruined _everything_!"

Three extra steps, three extra breaths, it was just that much more he'd have to do every day. It was only fair – why did the world force him to be so _fair_ all the time?

He stumbled up the stairs blindly, tears stinging his eyes. James – or someone, he wasn't looking – placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off suddenly and uncontrollably, like it was the most revolting thing in the world. Nausea crawled acid-like up in his throat and he practically sprinted upwards –

- _sixteen, seventeen, eighteen_ -

- until he was at the landing, and he pushed past other students to get away, thinking, _He's ruined it all, James had gone and ruined it all._

If people just left him alone this wouldn't happen. No more counting, no more drumming, no more speaking, no more thinking, or no more friends like James and Peter and Remus who asked dumb questions and couldn't tell when he was bloody _occupied_. The latter choice seemed easier to obtain.

He was losing them anyway; if only it were not for James, dashing and dastardly James.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I would love it if you left a review.


	7. Chapter 7

Madman

Chapter Seven

They didn't think he could do it, didn't think he was good enough.

That was Sirius's mantra. He struggled everyday to pull himself away from sleep (where dreams of a certain green-eyed girl plagued him to the point of restlessness) and into his waking hours, hours of torture, lack of control, questions.

_Do people think I'm going crazy?_

Am_ I going crazy?_

Sometimes he wanted desperately to never wake up, not to spend days pounding down traitorous thoughts he never invited in (perfecting handwriting on each essay or assignment, filling a step quota to a tee, filling his mouth with the whistling words and sounds it frequently demanded).

But then he would remember – they didn't believe he could act normal. James didn't, at least. The friendship seemed ruined forever.

Well, he'd go on. He didn't _need_ James.

He managed to maintain this mindset for about a day. On Saturday morning when James emerged from the shower, steaming and shaking his hair dry like a dog, Sirius forgot all about their fight. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered how puppy-like and pitiful he was, but it didn't stop him from trying to capture his friend's attention.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend," he said casually, vying for eye contact. "Are we going?"

James glanced idly in the mirror, made some minor adjustments to his hair, and replied, "You can go if you like, I guess."

"Yeah," Sirius said hopefully, gathering things for his own shower, "so we ought to meet downstairs at one, take the same carriage of course. There's something at QQS I've been meaning to take a look at -"

"I dunno," James said brusquely. "I wouldn't want to _ruin_ it for you."

The boy grabbed a shirt off his bed and stalked out. The door slammed shut behind him.

"I reckon you made him mad," Remus said from the corner, not looking up from his book. Sirius jolted, not having realized anyone else was there. He suddenly felt embarrassed of his neediness, a disposition he reserved for James's eyes only. "Of course, considering the scene you made -"

"Are you mad too?" Sirius asked quickly.

Remus gave him a good, long look. "I'm not taking sides," he finally said, setting the book down. He, too, left the room.

But later it was apparent that Remus was, indeed, taking sides. He was James and Peter piled into one carriage that afternoon, along with three girls Sirius didn't even know. With a pang he saw James was flirting heavily with all of them – something they were supposed to be doing together, double-teaming!

But there was only room for six in each carriage.

Sirius glanced behind him and saw, snorting and stomping, a large and ugly thestral. A shiver ran up his spines and he backed away, only to hear Lily's voice.

"Come on, Sirius, you can sit with us." She had a slightly disgusted look on her face, but it was directed at James's carriage. Sirius looked up – Lily and three of her friends were all gazing down at him with pity.

It occurred to him that sitting in a small, enclosed space was probably a fantastic way to get some kind of disease.

"No, thanks," he said, already deciding to move off, but Lily looked so deflated that he couldn't leave. "I – I don't think I'll go today."

"It's really okay," said one of the girls, ogling him outright. He averted his eyes.

"I – guess," he said haltingly, and he climbed into the carriage. Lily moved to help him, but he shook his head, tucking himself into the corner of the cab and vowing not to breathe.

They began to move at a smooth pace, and he found himself relaxing to the rhythm of the thestrals' trot. Lily was saying something in his ear, but he took no notice and instead stared out the window.

"You can see them, then?"

He blinked and looked at Lily, who was waiting patiently for a response. He immediately felt guilty. "Sorry, what?"

"The thestrals," Lily said hesitantly. "I noticed you looking at them."

Sirius was quiet for a moment. He closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah, I can see them," he finally said.

It wasn't something he particularly wanted to think or talk about, which was why he was immensely glad when they arrived in the village moments later. He climbed out of the carriage and inhaled the fresh air sharply.

"Sirius, help me?" said one of the girls. She was still in the carriage, reaching out a gloved hand to be helped down.

Lily saw this and scoffed. "C'mon, Emma, stop hitting on Sirius. You can get down yourself, can't you?" She shot him a surreptitious and meaningful look.

His insides flip-flopped again, except this time out of an odd pleasure. "Sorry," he said lightly, hoping this "Emma" was only joking. He really wasn't fond of the idea of dating someone – well, mostly he wasn't fond of the obligations which came along with it: hand-holding and kissing.

Sirius shuddered inwardly at the thought of having another person's mouth on his, even if it was someone he could tolerate, like Lily.

"Oh, crap," Lily said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "Sirius, you'd better make up with Potter real quick because the whole posse's coming over and I don't want him to stick around."

Sirius glanced quickly over his shoulder and, to his utmost horror, saw James sauntering in their direction, followed closely by Remus and Peter in an ominous formation. With another jolt of sick realization he knew this was how it felt to be on the receiving end of the trademark Marauder approach. He felt like he was about to be – gang-beaten or something of the sort.

"Oi, Evans," James said a little too quickly as he drew close, "got any plans while you're here?" He ignored Sirius altogether.

"No, which means I'm not planning to spend any time with you," she shot back snarkily, but Sirius could see a faint blush on her cheeks. Perhaps he was too observant, but who knew? His heart gave a sad little thump and he was thoroughly ashamed of himself for his girlishness.

"What, so you don't mind _him_ but you won't try to get to know me?" James said without an ounce of tact, gesturing at Sirius. Peter cleared his throat awkwardly and Remus let his eyes wander somewhere faraway.

Lily placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder and replied, "_He's_ much politer, thank you. Now if you don't mind, Potter-"

Sirius, head spinning, shrugged her hand away. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was as if he could _feel_ the creepy-crawlies already making their way around his neck, like a snake preparing to strangle. Lily glanced at him, nonplussed.

"Don't you know, Evans?" James contended, eyes darting between the two. "He can't stand human contact."

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" Sirius snarled. The girls behind him gasped and twittered, and even Remus snapped back to attention, looking uncomfortable.

"You're so bipolar," James spat, though it took him a moment to erase his expression of surprise. "You're a bloody madman."

"He's _not_ mad," Lily said in anger before Sirius could respond. James laughed shortly.

"Wait and see, Evans," he said. "You'll learn soon enough."

It was complicated, the look James gave Sirius. Something passed between the two that was indistinguishable. One thing was obvious – they were at war.

So when James walked away from the battlefield, Sirius couldn't move. He shook off the girls' questions and stared.

--

"_I'm going to leave, I'm going to find them, I don't need to go to school anymore."_

_blue, white, blue, green, blue_

_like a spool of thread unraveling, torturous, restless, where did he go? "No one ever got so tired by sleeping."_

_Well Regulus, I'm not sleeping, I'm waiting up for you._

"_Why would you do that?"_

_You missed dinner and you missed the moon, where've you been?_

"_But James, the moon's not out for another week."_

Sirius sat straight up.

He looked around. Sunlight was just beginning to fill the dormitory, pink and forewarning of a storm later. His roommates were evidently still asleep. Snores came from Peter's bed and he relaxed.

Reaching to his brow he found beads of sweat, and he shivered. The dream had been so surreal, as if he was not really there but simply watching from aside. Was this, then, one of his famous talking nights? Had James been right?

Sirius shuddered again, then again just to get it right. Once he did, once he memorized the method and the feel and how it must look, he adjusted his covers (so that the length of blanket that fell on either side would be equal).

Then, after achieving what he'd begun to call his "sleep symmetry", he tugged the covers up to his chin, pulling a sheet over his face to filter the poor air and everyone else's recycled breath.


	8. Chapter 8

Madman

Chapter Eight

Only hours later Sirius woke again, this time to the murmurs of his friends-turned-snubbers. As he sat up and tousled his hair, he saw they were gathered in the corner by the bathroom door. James was glaring at the floor, Remus and Peter speaking to him in hushed tones.

Sirius cleared his throat and Peter glanced over. He nudged Remus, said something, and the two of them left without a word.

His heart sped up, because James was looking at him now, and it was a look of fury that had been cajoled into resent."Sleep well?" James asked stiffly as the door clicked shut. Sirius swung his legs to the side of the bed, staring at the pattern in his red pyjama bottoms.

"Well enough," he finally said warily. He was undecided whether to try and appease James or to challenge him. His voice wavered, and he wanted very badly to leave.

Sirius was conscious of every move he made and every breath he took and every breath James took, too. This was a place for disease- the disorganization of the room hit him like a swarm of ants sinking their many legs into his skin. A shiver ran up his spine. He pulled his feet up onto the bed – the floor was probably swarming with bacteria.

James watched him watch the floor and apparently found it interesting, because his lip curled up in an angry, sick sort of smile. "I bet you did," he said sharply, "because you sure sounded like it."

Sirius froze, his eyes widened slightly, and he looked up, fear coursing through his veins. A vague memory of his early-morning awakening stirred. Had James heard his worries about the moon?

"I can't believe it," James spat, stalking toward him. Sirius chose to heed the immediate threat and got off his bed. He cringed slightly at the though of his bare feet against those filthy wooden floors, where other bare feet had been. "I can't believe," the boy continued, "that you would be after Evans behind my back."

In an instant Sirius's fear and guilt turned to confusion.

"I – what?" he bumbled.

"Yeah, I found out," James snarled, fists clenching. "You were practically _seducing_ her in your sleep – fuck, Sirius, you could've told me. I'm your _best_ mate -"

_Are you?_ Sirius thought wildly. Did James still consider them friends? He felt overwhelmed – that he'd been talking in his sleep _to Lily_, that James –

Oh, God. James _knew_.

If someone knew, especially if _James_ knew, it was all over. That made it practically tangible, real, and someone could therefore put it to an end.

"I don't," he said quickly. "Like her, I mean – Prongs -"

"You kept talking about how beautiful she is, how talented," James said sharply. If Sirius hadn't known better he would say his friend was on the verge of tears – but that didn't make sense, who cried when angry? "You know I like her, Sirius, you know it."

"I don't think she's any of those things," Sirius said haltingly, begging, entreating James. A sinking feeling tugged in his chest, somewhere beneath his rib cage and between his lungs. Deep in the slickness of his veins he felt – pain, loss. But mostly fear.

He was cornered, that was easy to see. James's expressions were changing colors so quickly that it was impossible to pin down exactly what he was feeling. And Sirius – he just felt shocked.

It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't fear his best friend.

"_James_," Sirius pled after some silence. His voice cracked. "I swear."

"Then swear to me you'll never talk to her again," James said boldly, standing his ground. His eyes were merciless.

"You know I can't do that -"

"Then I don't believe you," James scoffed. "Damnit, Sirius, why fucking lie to me?"

James turned away and stalked toward the door, his tirade done. It would've all ended there – the argument as well as the Marauders – except Sirius's lips fell open slightly and he said under his breath,

"You don't even care about her anyway."

James stopped in his tracks.

"What?" he said, not pulling his gaze away from the door.

Sirius increased his volume, upset and defiant. "I said," he dictated, grey eyes shining with fight, "you don't even give a damn about Lily. All you like is how she looks."

James turned and punched Sirius in the jaw.

The following moments were a frightening blur, and he was suddenly privy to a world of small sounds and nuances he'd never cared to notice before – like the _crack_ of fist against jaw, the gurgle of spit against his throat when he turned his head too quickly. A warm, salty taste filled his mouth.

The door clicked.

He staggered from the force of the blow and fell against a bed post. With a shock he realized his lip was bleeding. Swiping at the aforementioned blood, Sirius righted himself and fled to the bathroom. He was glad James had gone, because tears pricked his eyes. His lip throbbed. One of his teeth was chipped, and it sent sparks of pain through his jaw.

"Packs a mean punch," he said to his reflection, voice quavering. It calmed him slightly, hearing his own voice.

James didn't care about her. He couldn't. He was James, and he was too smart to get himself wound up in matters like that. Dating, yes, and it wasn't without precedent, but love? Even Sirius knew it was stupid to hope for such a thing at their age.

Nothing, after all, was permanent. He'd had to fight to keep things the same all these years.

And now something had changed anyway. Many things, actually.

James _hated him_.

And James _knew_.

What this spelled out for Sirius was impossible to predict. James was the type of person to speak out in spite. And yet he'd always been good at keeping his own secrets.

Sirius rubbed furiously at his mouth with his arm, not caring about the blood stains on his skin. He only wanted it away from his _mouth_, like he could protect himself then if it only wasn't _there_. And he laughed laconically, his fingers beginning to drum.

--

He took the stairs two at a time, counting furiously in pairs because he wanted to get downstairs as fast as he could. The quicker he got out onto the grounds, the fewer people likely to spot him on his way to the forest.

And once there, why, he could hide as Padfoot all he wanted.

Sirius made the final descent, careful to avoid touching the stair rail (a filthy thing) and even more attentive to his breathing. No one was around, but he still kept one hand hovering in front of his lips to filter dirty air – in case.

His temples pounded with the idea. His eyes were burning with angry tears.

Somehow he made it outside unnoticed and he changed into Padfoot without further ado.

Padfoot bounded toward the forest, somehow unnoticed by the few students milling about the grounds, and trotted confidently past innocent coniferous trees into the Dark Forest, deep and dark and _perfect_.

His heart was light. His tailed wagged. He vaguely missed his companions and the moon, but it was a simple, pondering feeling – not the heavy frustration of human Sirius.

Padfoot was happy. He was a dog.

He loped past a pond, murky and swollen with pine needles. Tiny eddies swirled at its edges, a muddy, broken looking glass. Padfoot became Sirius and he looked.

There, he couldn't determine the stranger in the water. It was his haunted face, his dulling eyes. But that beautiful brown hair, which once fell girlishly over his eyes and curled at the ends, was shorn off. It was instead choppy, awkward, short, a travesty of hair-cutting. He looked at this and cried.

Sirius wasn't a vain person, but this was too much. "It", whatever it was, had finally driven him to do something no one could pretend not to notice. And there was nothing he could do to pretend it didn't matter, either.

They would know. They would all know how very messed-up he was.

"Who are you?" he asked of the reflection, voice cracking. As usual, it just blinked back at him, lampooning any ounce of self-control he had left.

He suddenly released a desperate, wracking sob, a guttural cry from low in his chest, one he didn't even realize he was holding back. The tears still flowed, his nose dripped, his hand went up to his once-smooth, well-kempt hair and grasped mourningly at what was left.

Saltwater and snot on his face. A spike of rough, shaggy hair. Thoughts unrelated to his sorrow running through his head. And all Sirius could worry about, at least then, was whether or not there was dirt on his jeans.

There must've been, since he was kneeling in mud, but he still checked. Over and over again.


	9. Chapter 9

Madman

Chapter Nine

"Why are you walking with me?" Sirius asked stiffly, his eyes darting back and forth. His fingers drummed nervously on his waist. He'd just noticed the floors were made of large, rectangular blocks of tan stone. He took three steps per stone. It was hard because the stone size varied, and thus so did his stride lengths.

Peter, who was wringing his hands and looking anywhere but at their feet, made a gulping noise. Sirius wondered if he was afraid, an unwilling ambassador sent by the Marauders to make sure Sirius wasn't dying of an eating disorder or something. Not that the Marauders cared – they probably had never really considered him one of the group anyway.

But Peter said, "We always walk to class together, Padfoot."

It was odd. The blond boy was often so oblivious, and other times he knew just what to say. It was a far cry from James, who knew everything _but_ the right words to say, and Remus, who preferred to say nothing at all.

"Well," Sirius said, slightly flustered, as his drumming relaxed. He couldn't hold back his relief. Up, down, like a carousel. It was impossible to predict.

They arrived in the Astronomy tower a few minutes early, after quite a few stair-steps that Sirius had counted all silently, one-by-one, head ducked. They were evidently first, because the classroom, which was right across from the viewing balcony (the highest point in the castle), was empty except for the professor, who scribbled away at her desk uncaringly.

"I have to tell you something," Peter said under his breath as Sirius swept a seat clean of invisible imposters with his sleeve. The latter didn't look up – he didn't want to miss a spot, after all, and risk his health.

"About what?" he asked, his voice almost light. He was happy – Peter still liked him! It wasn't the dynamic duo, but it was _something_.

"About Lily," his friend said, and his tone was so strangled that Sirius finally glanced at him. Peter looked horribly torn.

There was a beat of silence.

"What about Lily?" Sirius asked softly, sitting down.

"She, erm, caught wind of what you and James talked about the other day. Well, more like James let it slip."

He didn't feel surprised somehow. Sirius shook his head and once, twice, three times ran a hand over his still-shaggy hair. He was getting used to it, though girls had been giving him horrified looks instead of the usual hopeful ones.

"So what does she think?" he asked without a hint of concern in his voice. His fingers twitched against his knee.

Peter shrugged and looked away. "James didn't say. He sort of just gloated about telling her."

Sirius released a shuddering sigh, surprising himself. This bothered him – James had been blatantly ignoring him in the dormitory and classes, but he seemed to have no problem with making snide comments about Sirius's… tics, Sirius's hair, and now Sirius's feelings for Lily. A long time ago, this feud would've seemed impossible. They never fought for so long.

Peter opened his mouth to add something, but just then a group of students came into the classroom, the other two Marauders among them. Sirius watched enviously as James threw his arm around Remus and said something that sent them both into uproarious laughter.

"Oi, Black," a fellow Gryffindor said snarkily, "who cut your hair? Your little brother?"

Sirius twitched. Everyone knew he hated his family, especially Regulus. The idea that he would willingly spend a minute in the thirteen year-old's presence was more than enough to push his buttons.

At his side, Peter scratched his head and looked away, apparently pretending not to hear so he wouldn't have to get involved.

Sirius didn't say anything. His friend, although willing to be an informant, obviously didn't want the public stigma of association with him.

"Hey, leave him alone," Remus said quietly. The other student, surprised that one of the most popular blokes in the school cared to drop him a line, backed off.

"Remus -" Sirius started to say, but the tired-looking boy had already turned away.

--

Class passed quickly and, strangely for Sirius, without incident. James and Remus kept their distance, while Peter remained passively at his side. The divide between the four friends was evident to everybody in the room, but no one commented. They'd gotten their fill of gossip, Sirius reckoned, after the numerous public blowups he'd had with James.

Afterwards was a completely different story. The Gryffindor fifth years had double Herbology next with Hufflepuff, and all the way down Sirius counted his stair-steps carefully and slowly. Peter seemed impatient.

"I'm going to go ahead," he said finally after step 17. "I have to talk to Sprout about my grade before the lesson."

Sirius paused. "Alright," he said hesitantly, face flushing because he knew just why Peter wanted to leave. "I'll – erm – I'll meet up with you, then?"

The blond boy nodded and scampered away – probably to join the other Marauders. Sirius didn't know.

It was terrible timing, because no sooner was Peter gone from sight than a pair of boys caught up with Sirius. They looked older than him, probably seventh years, and they leered at him with stupid faces.

"Oi, look, it's ickle Blacky," the taller, decidedly wittier-looking one said. He had a moustache that lay thin and tame across his upper lip. Sirius stared at it, unintimidated.

"And he's all by his lonesome, too," said the shorter one, who looked like a hedgehog with his spike of brown hair.

"Can I help you?" Sirius asked coolly, marveling at his sangfroid. It was a strange sort of ability that he could maintain himself amidst strangers, and yet with his very best friends he became a shaking introvert.

Moustache looked him up and down and sneered. "You're one of those _Marauders_, right?"

"Not particularly," he said, turning away. He was grateful they were on a landing, because he couldn't think about his counting with all _this_ rubbish.

Hedgehog jabbed him in the side and said, "_Your_ type made a fool out of my girlfriend. We don't appreciate _your_ type."

"My type?" Sirius said in mock thought. His blood boiled but, in some miracle, he didn't let it show. "You mean my family, or the Marauders? Because as of recent, I am a member of neither."

He was jabbed again, and he paled slightly. "Don't touch me."

"Oh, so it's true, then," Moustache crooned, towering over him. For some reason his accomplice continued to prod Sirius: an attempt to provoke him into a fight? "We heard your boys kicked you out because you've gone _nutty_."

"I'm not 'nutty'!" Sirius snarled, turning on the short one. He grabbed the boy's fingers and quickly twisted them until he heard a sickening _snap_.

Hedgehog yelped and stumbled back; Moustache's eyes bugled and he leapt for Sirius, shoving him roughly to the ground. The back of Sirius's head thudded against the stone floor, and he vaguely registered being kicked in the side.

People walked past, their shoes filling his vision, but no one looked at him. Moustache laughed at the quick triumph over him and spat. A glob of saliva hit Sirius's face.

"Teach you to mess with us," the seventh year said.

Sirius lay still until he was sure the coast was clear. Then he got up and ran, ribs throbbing, to the nearest bathroom.

He closed the door firmly behind him and rushed for the faucet. Water ran blood-hot and he splashed his face, his wrists, rolling up his sleeves and fairly scalding his skin. His wand clattered to the floor and bubbles spouted magically from an adjacent faucet, consuming his hands.

Sirius scrubbed his face harshly, unable to think of anything but the bacteria from _that boy's own mouth_, crawling over his cheekbones and into his ears and past his lips, mixing with the angry tears as he struggled.

It wasn't enough, it definitely wasn't enough; he was being eaten alive, feeling ants and demons and _germs_ laugh against his body –

"I'm going to die, I'm going to die," he sobbed as he fell against the white porcelain. His forehead hit the mirror and his skin was sticky with sweat and soap. He scrubbed and tore at his skin with desperate fingernails. The water in the sink was a familiar pink, the second time in so short a time span –

"What the -"

Sirius ignored the voice because no matter how badly he wanted to see who it was in the bathroom, he couldn't stop. He was still being plagued, and to stop now…! Somewhere in his mind he registered how he must've looked, but the soft skin under his fingernails was chafed and bleeding and he _had_ to get it off!

He felt arms encircle him and he screamed, half from shock and half from frustration. In the mirror James's reflection was panicked and wild-eyed.

"Don't touch me!" Sirius yelled, turning to struggle and claw against James. His friend grunted and held his arms down. "Don't _touch_ me! Don't _touch_ me!"

"Padfoot! _Padfoot -_"

"_No_!" he yelled, voice rising an octave in pitch. He could feel his fingertips, slippery and sore, drumming at a wild pace, but it didn't make him feel better, he _needed_ to be let go, he _needed_ to clean himself, even if James had to see him this way! James could hate him, but he couldn't let Sirius _die_!  
"Padfoot, stop! What the hell are you doing, you mad old dog?! Stop!"

James stumbled back a few steps when Sirius stuck his thumb in the corner of his eye. He slipped on the wet floor and Sirius, sobs wracking his torso, tried to turn back to the faucet.

"Sirius -" The hazel-eyed boy struggled upward, holding a hand to his eye, and grabbed him by the collar. Sirius choked and stumbled to his knees, then James fell to his knees too, wrapping his arms around him in a forceful kind of hug. "Wait here, damnit, don't move, it's okay -"

Sirius, who had not cried in front of other people until that year, let even more tears fall as he still struggled weakly against someone he'd never really wanted to resist in the first place.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I actually swore to myself before starting this story that Sirius would not be a germaphobe, because I think it's a misconception and stereotype that OCD is all germaphobia/cleaning/organizing. However, I think I've illustrated other "rituals" well enough that I've done the disorder justice. And Sirius has a way of taking his own route when it comes to plotlines. =/ (I've never been a germaphobe myself, though, so I hope the way I'm illustrating it is okay.)

Anyway, there's only one chapter left to go. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'd really appreciate any reviews, even if it's something like "Liked it" or "Didn't like it". Thanks! :)


	10. Which is to say, the end

Madman

Chapter Ten

They surrounded him like a pack of dogs that had made its first kill, with no idea what to do next. He felt angry, sad, embarrassed - any sort of emotion. After James had all but carried him up to Gryffindor tower by himself, Sirius couldn't place what he was feeling, except that he was on display, and he frankly did not like it.

James now paced angrily back and forth by the door, looking as if Sirius might make a run for it anytime. His eye was red from where he'd been prodded, but more striking were the tears that lay dewy on his lashes.

_James_ was crying. After all this. James.

Remus was sitting on his bed with his palms facing the ceiling, as if in surrender. He stared disbelievingly at Sirius. He was probably unable to understand how their friend could fall apart so completely in so short a time.

And Peter - Peter was the only one who didn't look at him; he was sitting on the windowsill, looking down. For once, impossible to read. He looked upset, but whether it was with Sirius or with himself was a mystery.

Sirius was in the center of the whole thing, on the floor, leaning against the foot of his bed. He tried to hold back his crying, pinching the bridge of his nose, but the illusion of composure was ruined by the redness of his eyes and the blood on his palms, which he was wiping again and again and again on his robes with a hiss of pain.

"How long as this been going on?" James finally asked, voice cracking.

Sirius didn't lift his head. He was so _tired_. "How long has what been going on?" he said bitterly.

"_Everything_." Remus's mouth gaped there in the last syllable of the world; he didn't move otherwise.

"Everything," Sirius repeated, closing his eyes. His fingers tapped on the floor, a pattern they all knew by now. It was slow, desperate, looking for reassurance and finding none. "Forever, I guess."

Forever? That was a lie, and a blatant on at that. He'd started falling apart that summer after the first Marauder excursion. It was nothing, just a twinge - he'd always been orderly and he'd always had worries. But something _must've_ driven him over the edge, something...

Sirius curled against his bedpost, feeling the smooth chestnut wood against his hot face. If only they'd stop looking at him.

"Why do you do it?" James pled, trying to capture eye contact and failing. "Why don't you just stop?"

"I can't," he tried to say hoarsely.

"It's mind over matter," Remus interjected. "Even if you get some weird pleasure out of it, Padfoot, why would you -"

"_Pleasure_?" Sirius echoed carelessly, his fingers still beating, his eyes angry. "Do I look happy to you? Do I look like I want this? _Well, I don't!_" he yelled, and the room reverberated with the noise, sending sharp notes of pain through his ears. He released a shuddering breath.

Silence. Stunned silence.

"It's not mind over matter, Moony," he said very weakly. "It's like you think. I'm just fucking crazy."

And then the tears fell. He definitely hadn't meant to say that.

"No, you're not," Peter said suddenly. Sirius looked up, shaking. His friend turned from the window and watched him steadily. "You're still Sirius. You can do whatever you like to your hair or your -" he nodded at Sirius's suffering hands "- but you'll never be crazy. _You're okay_."

Sirius didn't answer. He wavered.

"Are you kidding, Wormtail?" Remus looked incredulous. "Look at him. He's _not_ okay."

James didn't say anything, either. His eyes were pained.

"I don't care, Moony, he's still our friend," Peter shot back fiercely. "No one targets Sirius like those blokes did, not if we have something to say about it."

"Damn right," James agreed finally, his eyes dark and vindictive. "I say as soon as Padfoot pulls himself together we teach them a lesson or two."

Sirius shook harder, unable to control himself. A blossoming hope exploded in the pit of his stomach. They _didn't care_. They expected him to tackle this problem and move on, like with everything else that'd ever come his way.

He felt cast aside. And yet perhaps this was exactly what he needed.

A little confidence.

After another pregnant pause, Remus got up from his place on the bed and settled cross-legged on the floor beside Sirius. Seeming to understand his friend's unwillingness to be touched, he left a good twelve inches of space between them. The skepticism was gone from his face.

"You're...not enjoying this?" he asked very carefully and quietly.

Sirius shook his head.

"Wow," Remus breathed. "I don't know why I ever thought you were."

"I thought you hated me," Sirius said.

The other boy looked positively shocked. He fiddled with his shoelace before finally saying, "I couldn't hate you, Sirius."

Peter joined them on the floor, examining his friend's expression, tentative. "None of us can, Padfoot..."

For a long time, James only stared. He seemed conflicted, as if he felt he'd already done his part and, after so long, he wasn't used to this kind of unity within the group anymore.

Then he came away from the door, kneeling carefully to look his best friend in the eye.

"You know I love you, Si," he said.

It struck Sirius then that he could handle this, with his friends at his side. He'd taken worse at home - if his family couldn't break him, this - this phase, this depression, this _whatever-it-was_ could not.

His mind still struggled, worries still screaming out against what logic was telling him.

For once in a long time, logic won.

--

After this life was eeriely quiet. It was like a dream, a spool of thread that, unrolling, had had hundreds of tangles before this single smooth section. The peace was almost unnerving.

People went silent and averted their eyes when Sirius walked past, but now it was not because he was going mad but because of his entourage: Peter and Remus and James, all by his elbow and glaring overprotectively. Maybe the old Sirius wouldn't have liked this, but the new Sirius was so relieved for this wordless gesture of brotherhood that he couldn't find the proper thanks.

James was James again, except gentler and tireder and toned down, dialed back a notch, some of the belligerence filtered out of him. He was genuine, but there was a noticeable pause before he said anything, a momentary flicker of his gaze toward Sirius.

"Si," he'd said very quietly one day, when no one else was around, "no matter what we do or say, you're my best mate. You know that?"

Sirius had looked into those hazel eyes and seen nothing but honesty.

"Even if you do ridiculous things," James promised, lowering his gaze. Something had clicked then.

They _were_ the dynamic duo. Except...they simply weren't that dynamic anymore. They'd both changed for good. But James had been saying it was okay.

It was a few days later that Sirius noticed the skin on his palms had healed over, soft and pink, renewed like his grip on himself. The fear of being invaded, irrational like all his fears, had faded. Just the one. One was enough.

He entered the common room that day with his step count on his mind. His hands were normal-looking, his growing hair tucked in a short, thick little ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes closed briefly against the bright light of the room.

When they fluttered open he saw her come to him, all long hair and almond eyes and gangly arms and legs, a picture of grace if he ever saw one. She was deer-like in every way, including her tentative approach.

"Hey," she said quietly, while he looked around to verify that she was, in fact, addressing _him_. Across the room, James glanced over and something flickered in his eyes, but Sirius's momentary panic was assuaged by the memory: _No matter what we do or say, you're my best mate_.

"Hey," he finally replied, surprised at how normal he sounded.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. "How are you, Sirius?"

He rubbed his wrists and answered truthfully, "I'm doing better."

"Good." Lily didn't look at him for the longest time. She rumpled her hair, looking simplistic and beautiful like that, mussing up her auburn locks, and his heart flipped. She said with a sigh, "Rumor has it you like me."

"That's...quite the rumor," he responded hesitantly.

"So that's all it is? It's not true?"

He said, "No, it's definitely true."

She was quiet for a very long time, and he became anxious again. He hadn't meant to put her off, but she deserved the truth.

Finally she looked up from her feet and murmured, "I just don't know what to say, Sirius. You're really handsome, and sweet, and of course you're a good friend..."

Sirius shrugged, a lump forming in his throat. "I know you don't feel that way about me," he told her. "So you shouldn't worry."

Lily looked sheepish. "I guess you know who I _do_ like," she muttered.

He cast another glance across the room, where James was pretending very hard not to be looking at them. "Yeah, I do," he said.

"Is it that...obvious?"

"No," he promised softly.

"I'm sorry, Sirius."

Sirius dared to put a hand on her shoulder, and for a second - just a second, a fleeting memory - he felt like his old self. Like nothing had ever happened. "It's okay. We're - we're friends, and I'm glad for that." He swallowed, aware he was probably saying too much. "...it's...always okay."

She nodded a slow, stiff nod and, after looking at him for the longest time, slipped away. The sounds of the common room came rushing back as Sirius remembered where he was.

He felt the same heavy knowledge of himself: the vivid colors in his vision, the warm air in his lungs, the blood moving through his veins.

And there, an unforgettable rhythm playing out between his fingers and his waist, he knew in his bones that everything really _would_ be okay.

--

End.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And there you have it. I really don't have much to say now, except I'm very glad I wrote this piece, and I hope the ending didn't disappoint you. I have to thank anyone who read and/or reviewed... you've been so motivational. Um... that's all. I hope you check out my other work on your way out. :)


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